


take me out tonight

by capriciouslouis



Series: Coldflash Valentines Day Event 2018 [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capriciouslouis/pseuds/capriciouslouis
Summary: Coldflash V-Day 2018Prompt: Date Interrupted By a Meta“This is nice, isn’t it?” said Barry. “Just the two of us, getting to spend some time together without any craziness going on? I mean, I’m not gonna act like it’s not fun, doing all the cloak and dagger, bitter rivalry thing – but every once in a while, it’s good to just… chill out.”“I’ll drink to that,” said Len, raising his beer. “Cheers.”Barry lifted his drink. They clinked their glasses together, and the front window of the restaurant exploded.They threw their arms up to shield their faces; glass rained down, tinkling like hailstones. Killer Frost stood in the window, her hands smoking.“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” said Barry.Just this once, Len and Barry want to go on a normal, quiet date. Central City's metahuman population has other ideas.





	take me out tonight

Another blast shook the building as Len fired the cold gun, an icy beam blasting straight towards Barry’s face. Blurring out of the way, he took a couple of steps back to assess the situation.

All in all, the warehouse was a good place for a stand-off. Deserted, in a secluded area, and with plenty of crates and rusted apparatus for him to duck behind.

They circled each other. Len’s grin was visible even behind his furry hood. His enjoyment was infectious; Barry fought a smile of his own. Truthfully, he shouldn’t enjoy this, but…well. He was only metahuman, after all.  

Tonight he’d caught Len stealing from a jewellery store – low-level, for him, but he’d swindled an impressive amount before Barry got there. The burlap sack in which he’d carried his spoils lay at Len’s feet, forgotten, jewels spilling onto the floor. Discarded jewels crunched underfoot. He shook his head at Len’s blasé attitude towards the wealth he was trampling on – but it had never been about the jewels. Not really. What Len wanted was the rush – that was what Barry intended to give him.

He sprinted at Len and swung a punch. Len ducked with surprising alacrity, then swung the cold-gun at Barry’s head. Using his speed, Barry dodged, and then ran a couple of circles around him to disorient him before he disengaged, skidding to a halt a couple of feet away.

Len’s smile widened.

Another shot at Barry’s head sent him diving for cover behind a rotting crate. Blinding light washed over the room, and he threw up an arm to shield his eyes as Leonard coated the crate in a thick sheen of ice, the chill seeping through the wood.

“So I was thinking,” Len shouted over the buzz of the gun. “We should go on a date! Tomorrow night!”

“I thought that’s what we _were_ doing!” Barry yelled back. “Or is one robbery this week not enough for you?”

“I’m talking about a real date. One where we put on fancy clothes and go for dinner, or whatever it is people do these days.”

“You said you hated that stuff, remember?”

“Well, I changed my mind,” Len said, and suddenly stopped shooting. The quiet that filled the room was suddenly just as jarring as the blasts from the gun. His voice echoed as he said, “It is Valentine’s Day, after all.”

“Never had you for a romantic,” Barry said, his back pressed against the spongy wood of the crate.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Rushing out from behind his crate, Barry sprinted towards him, but was rapidly driven back by another shot. Damn, Len really wasn’t giving him any ground today. He backed up, trying to get some room to manoeuvre, only to have Len aim at the ground beneath Barry’s feet. Ice poured from the gun, spreading across the floor. Barry slipped, almost lost his footing. Cursing, he crouched, trying to spread his weight for better balance. The pool of ice spread around him, continuing several feet in each direction and trapping him in place. If he tried to run on that, he’d break his neck. Len lowered the gun.

“There’s this new Mexican place that opened up a couple of blocks from here,” he said, voice carrying across the empty room. “We can try it out. You like Mexican food?”

“I could go for Mexican food,” Barry said, testing his footing. He’d have to get Cisco to improve the grip on his boots; they were skidding horribly every time he moved. If he fell on his ass now, he’d never live it down.

“Good,” Len said, and shot at him.

Instinctively, Barry jerked back. His feet went out from underneath him; his speedster reflexes kicked in and he saved himself before he fell, but not in time to avoid the blast as well. It hit him in the chest like a punch, needles of cold worming their way into his skin. With a yell of pain, he staggered back, managed to grab hold of another disintegrating crate and pull himself upright. He found a foothold, clawed his way up the side and stood like a statue on a plinth, warily regarding Len. His new position gave him the advantage of sure footing, but it also made him an easier target – he couldn’t move as quickly jumping from box to box. The decaying wood was starting to sink beneath his weight.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” Len said, pointing the gun squarely at his chest. “Wear something nice. If you even think about wearing those ratty sneakers then I’ll shoot your ass and leave you behind.”

Gingerly, Barry tested his footing. Not as solid as he’d like, but better than that skating rink Len had made of the floor. “What’s brought this on? I didn’t think you went in for that kind of stuff. Your dream date usually involves the two of us hitting each other.”

“Figured I’d shake things up. Besides, I thought we’d make it into a wager.”

“What sort of wager?” Barry asked suspiciously.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed: you’re going easy on me. It isn’t any fun if you let me win, so here’s the deal: if you lose, you’re paying.”

“ _What?_ That’s not fair, you can’t ask me on a date and then expect me to get the bill! Have you _seen_ how much I eat?”

“You’re good for it, I’ve seen your bank balance,” Len said dismissively. “But if you don’t wanna pay, then it’s simple. Beat me. Unless you can’t.”

“Oh, trust me, I could beat you with my eyes shut.”

Len cocked his head. “Prove it.”

Barry leapt off his crate, and somehow managed to land on his feet inches away from the treacherous sheet of ice. The world around him slowed to a crawl, and he moved like an oar through smooth waters, cutting easily through the stillness. Grabbing crates, dragging them into a better arrangement, grouping them around the room like stepping stones so that when time resumed normal speed, he had a clear path around the room, just beyond Len’s reach.

Back when he was a kid in elementary school, he and Iris used to play a whole lot of dumb games. She kicked his ass at most things, but every now and then, Barry gained the upper hand.

He’d always been good at ‘The Floor is Lava’.

He took off, ricocheting around the room with lightning crackling around him. Len watched with narrowed eyes, slowly circling, trying to keep the gun locked on him, but he didn’t have a hope in hell of keeping up. Barry waited for his moment, for Len to settle upon a spot and aim. A gloved finger turned the dial on the gun to absolute zero; he was taking no chances. One squeeze at just the right second and Barry would be caught in a searing blast of cold **,** incapacitating him instantly.

He had been on the receiving end of a hit like that once before, in a far less friendly scenario. Never again.

He leapt off one of the boxes and threw himself at Leonard. They collided and were hurled across the room, carried by Barry’s momentum. He dug in his heels in, skidded, and slowed just enough so that when he slammed Len up against the wall, it knocked the breath out of him but didn’t break bones.

Pressing his forearm to Len’s throat, Barry put just enough weight behind it to make Len breathe a little shallowly. Between their bodies, Len’s gun was trapped. Barry could feel the chill of it even through his suit.

“Check,” he said.

Len’s smile was not the look of a man defeated. “You got me,” he said. “Now what?”

“Now, it’s _your_ turn to get the bill,” said Barry. “No getting out of it. And I’m gonna order one of _everything._ ” He lowered his voice, leaned in and murmured in Len’s ear, “Told you I could beat you.”

“So you did,” Len said. “Sure showed me.”

“You never would’ve let me kick your ass like that a couple months ago. You’re slacking, _Captain_. Better step up your game.”

“Yep,” Len said. “I’ll remember that. Note to self…” He shifted slightly, the cold gun digging into Barry’s chest. “Don’t. Get. Cocky.”

He fired.

Barry flew backwards, skidding across the icy floor. He rolled across the room and slammed into one of the wooden crates with a damp thud; it caved in, showering him in chunks of rotten wood.

Stunned, Barry rolled onto his back with a groan. The front of his suit was smoking faintly, blackened and covered in gritty flecks of ice. It hadn’t been a straight shot, he’d been smart enough to make sure the gun wasn’t pointed at him when he threw Len up against the wall – but at such close proximity even an indirect hit had been more than powerful enough to put him on his ass. He made a weak attempt to sit up, thwarted by the thick crust of ice on his chest…and then lay back down. Cold radiated through his body. He didn’t even have the energy to vibrate himself free of it.

Len approached, his expression blank. Lifting his leg, he placed his right foot on the centre of Barry’s chest.

“Checkmate.”

“Fine,” Barry managed. “I’ll pay.”

“Glad to hear it,” Len said, and the pressure of his foot intensified.

The ice coating Barry’s chest cracked, falling off with a tinkle like broken glass. It shattered on the ground around him, and Barry shivered, shaking off the last of it. Len pulled him to his feet, brushing the still-smoking emblem of his suit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at eight,” said Len, and he leaned in to kiss Barry on the cheek. “Don’t be late.”

Slinging the cold gun over his shoulder, he walked out of the warehouse without a second glance, leaving behind him a thick coating of ice and a small heap of gleaming jewellery on the ground.

 

~*~

 

The doorbell rang at exactly eight. Barry zipped to the front door and opened it to find Len carrying a huge bouquet of roses and a small gift bag.

Barry eyed the roses warily. “They’re not some kind of venomous, poison-spitting plant hybrid, right? You promise I’m not gonna come back to find my apartment overrun by mutant plant-life? Because I know that’s kind of a supervillain thing –”

“They’re just flowers, Barry. And they were a pain in the ass to get; do you know how hard it is to steal from a florist? I’m scratched all over and I smell like flowers, so take them, before I shove them up your ass.”

“You could have just _bought_ them,” Barry protested, but he took the flowers anyway and stepped back to let Len in.

Since he didn’t own a vase, Barry found a large stock-pot to put them in instead. Len watched him with raised eyebrows but didn’t comment. It was a testament to the sheer volume of roses he’d brought that they fit in the pot quite nicely.

“I got you something to go with your suit,” Len said, holding up the gift bag. “It’s nice, by the way.”

Barry accepted the bag, which contained a small box. He opened it to reveal a set of cufflinks that winked in the light; they were small, but dazzling, and he couldn’t help but beam at the sight of them.

“They’re amazing. Thank you.” He hesitated. “Do I wanna know where you got these?”

“Best not to ask,” Len said, and he removed one from the box and began fastening it to Barry’s sleeve.

It was tempting to argue, but he didn’t want to spoil a night like tonight with bickering. They’d never been on a date like this before. Besides, a leopard wouldn’t change its spots, and expecting Leonard Snart to stop stealing things was like asking the sky to go green for a day. Barry turned his wrist, admiring the way the cufflinks caught the light.

“So,” Len said, brushing a speck of lint off Barry’s sleeve. He let their hands fall, but their fingers remained interlocked. “What did you get me?”

“Uh… the pleasure of my company?”

“Just what I’ve always wanted,” Len said, with only a tiny bit of sarcasm.

Barry grinned. “Nah, I’m messing with you. Here.”

He grabbed a box off the side. The S.T.A.R Labs logo was printed on the top. Len narrowed his eyes, but removed the lid, revealing a pair of gleaming goggles, near-identical to the ones he usually wore. A little sleeker, maybe.

“I had Cisco rustle something up. He made a couple of modifications. They’ve got night vision, thermal imaging, all the bells and whistles. Do you like them?”

“Interesting,” was Len’s verdict as he held the goggles up to the light, examining them. He put them on, cocked his head, and said, “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” Barry said softly. Then, pink-cheeked, he added, “But I’m not sure they go with your outfit.”

“Maybe not,” Len said, and he tucked the goggles into the breast pocket of his suit. “Thanks.”

“That’s not all,” Barry said, pulling a small white envelope out of his pocket.

“This had better not be a Valentine’s Day card. I don’t do sentimentalism.”

“Yes, very convincing, tough-guy. That’s why we’re going on our first proper date on February fourteenth. Just open it.”

Len did. He pulled out a Monopoly card, laminated in plastic. Frowning, he flipped it over, and then rolled his eyes.

“Get out of jail free.”

“You like it?” Barry said gleefully. “It’s funny, right? Consider it an IOU. You get yourself locked up and you get one free pass; I’ll come bust you out, night or day. Just the once, though. I can’t make a habit of it; people will start to talk.”

“I’m insulted that you think I’m ever going to need a get out of jail free,” Len said, but he pocketed the card as well. “Come on. We’ll miss our reservation if we don’t hurry up.”

“I’m never late to anything,” Barry scoffed. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”

Len gave him a filthy look. “I’m not travelling to our first date by _piggyback_. We can get an Uber.”

“You’re no fun,” said Barry, but he still smiled as he took Len’s hand.

 

~*~

 

Their table was in the centre of the room, directly beneath a chandelier that cast rainbows across the room. The place was decorated for Valentine’s Day – roses on all the tables, white cloths, the works. Len buried himself in the menu, while Barry quietly revelled in the normalcy of it all. No explosions, no guns going off. Just the two of them sat quietly in a restaurant with incredible smells drifting by.

“I can hear your stomach from here,” said Len, flipping through the menu. “Tell it to pipe down. They’re going to think there’s an earthquake.”

“Shut up,” said Barry, grinning. “What about you? That face you’re making is gonna turn all the milk sour. People will be sending back the desserts.”

“Touché.” Len leaned back in his seat. “I’m getting a beer. I don’t suppose there’s any use in offering you any.”

“Not much,” Barry admitted. “I’ll have water.”

They sat sipping their drinks, and ordered. Len ordered pozole. Barry had a quick scan of the menu and ordered three different dishes, much to the astonishment of the waitress.

“Least you can’t accuse me of being a cheap date,” said Barry as she took their menus and headed back to the kitchen with great bemusement.

“Well, there is that,” said Len. “Though I expect it’ll be little consolation when you have to declare bankruptcy afterwards. Perhaps I should get the bill after all. You have to admit, my job pays better.”

Barry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny it. Still, he didn’t think they should be discussing business at the dinner-table. For once, they were finally getting a chance to escape all of that. He wanted to enjoy it.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” he said. “Just the two of us, getting to spend some time together without any craziness going on? I mean, I’m not gonna act like it’s not fun, doing all the cloak and dagger, bitter rivalry thing – but it’s good to just relax, you know? Like normal people.”

“I’m not sure either of us are best suited to normal.”

“Maybe not full time. But every once in a while, it’s good to just… chill out.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Len, raising his beer. “Cheers.”

Barry lifted his drink. They clinked their glasses together, and the front window of the restaurant exploded.

They threw their arms up to shield their faces; glass rained down, tinkling like hailstones. People screamed, leapt up from their seats. A woman on the next table over gazed dumbfoundedly into her enchiladas, which were garnished with thick chunks of glass. Dust filled the room – and Barry jumped out of his skin at a distinct whirring noise behind him; he spun around to find Len pointing the cold gun at the shattered window, his jaw clenched.

“Everybody get out.”

Nobody needed telling twice. With numerous screeching chairs, a lot of shoving and some mild hysteria, people fled towards the fire exit. The fire door burst open and an alarm immediately started wailing; a knot of people churned around the doorway, clawing at each other in their urgency to escape. Len narrowed his eyes, tightened his grip on the gun and continued to glare at the broken window as the room emptied, people gushing out like water down a drain.

“I can’t believe you brought that with you!” said Barry, appalled. “Where did you even _hide_ that?”

“I really don’t think this is the time to discuss it, Barry,” Len said in a sing-song voice, and then something stirred in the centre of the room and they both turned to meet it.

Lying in the splintered wreckage of a dinner-table was a distorted body, dressed in a suit. Aghast, Barry wondered what kind of force one would have to use to mangle a body that badly; it was contorted into an awful position that didn’t look entirely natural – but then there was a low groan, and the man shook himself, glass plinking to the ground. His malformed limbs began to retract, drawing back into a more natural shape, and as Barry stared, Ralph flipped himself over, lying on his back in the debris.

“ _Ralph_?” said Barry.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t expect to see you here,” Ralph said, and then yelped and started scrabbling backwards, staring in horror at the broken window.

A blast of ice shot towards the fire alarm, freezing it into a solid lump. With one last wheeze, the alarm fell silent.

Barry and Len both turned. Killer Frost stood on a pile of broken furniture, her hands smoking.  

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” said Barry.

Ralph was attempting to hide behind a horrified young couple at the next table. They leapt up, running for the exit, and Ralph dived underneath their abandoned table, though his feet were clearly visible beneath the cloth.

“What did you do?” Barry shouted.

“It was all a misunderstanding! Could happen to anyone - total mistake, please don’t hurt me!” Ralph said pleadingly.

“I. Got. CATFISHED!” Killer Frost snarled, and an icicle formed in her hand, long and deadly as a spear.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a Catfish, I’d say it was more a case of… economising the truth a little,” Ralph said, sticking his head out from underneath the table – then he saw the icy projectile in her hand and vanished again with a squeak.

“Guys, can we talk about this, rather than, you know, destroying the entire restaurant,” Barry suggested weakly.

It was too late: Killer Frost was already on the prowl, creeping towards Ralph like a cat. Glass clinked gently beneath her feet.

“Do you know how rare it is for me to find any man interesting enough to be worthy of my time?” she asked dangerously. “It’s a long and arduous process. Trust me, I’ve learned from Caitlin’s mistakes. If I’m going to allow a man to date me, he has to tick all the boxes. And after weeks of searching, I finally thought I’d found someone worthy of my attention – and then _you_ show up.”

“If you’re looking for someone interesting and worthwhile, maybe Tinder isn’t the best place you could be looking,” Len drawled.

She narrowed her eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“I’m not sure this conversation is really helping,” said Barry.

“You’re right,” Frost said. “You know what _is_ helping? Knowing that in about thirty seconds, I’m going to tie Ralph Dibny in a knot, drag him down to the waterfront and turn him into an iceberg.” She cocked her head. “Way more helpful than just talking.”

“Fair point,” Len said.

Barry glared at him.

Shrugging, Len said, “Don’t act like his smug face isn’t bothering you just as much as it bothers me. If she wants to crush him like a can and drown him, she can be my guest. I’d be tempted to lend a hand, but I’d hate to get dirt on this suit.”

“Not. Helping,” said Barry.

“Are you going to get out of my way, or not?” demanded Frost.

“I’m gonna go for not,” said Barry, and immediately Len reached out and yanked him backwards, planting himself in front of the speedster. Astonished, Barry said, “What are you doing?”

“You and the cold don’t get along,” Len reminded him as he trained his gun on Killer Frost. “Besides, you’re not really dressed for the occasion.”

“Your gun has the exact same powers she does!” Barry hissed. “What exactly do you think is gonna happen?”

“No clue,” said Leonard, “but I’m sure it’ll be interesting.”

Killer Frost seemed to be of the same opinion. A wicked grin lit up her face, and she strode further into the restaurant. Len shifted in response; across the room, Ralph shot back underneath the table, flattening himself down as if to hide. Barry folded his arms in disbelief as Killer Frost spread her arms out and raised her eyebrows. Her meaning was clear; the words ‘bring it on’ were written all over her face.

Len took a second to appraise her, looking her up and down – and then he fired.

The blast hit her straight in the chest and she staggered back, thrown off balance. Somehow she managed to retain her footing, straightening up again. Jaw clenched, Len continued to fire, cold energy pouring into the stream that seared her chest, white mist rising from the site of impact and drifting off her in thick waves. She tilted her head back slightly, smirking. All the while the cold gun whirred and Killer Frost didn’t even flinch.

Abruptly, Len cut off the blast and lowered his gun. With a contented sigh, Killer Frost stretched.

“That was nice,” she said. “Kind of… refreshing. Care to take another shot? I could do this all day.”

Len didn’t react, but it took every ounce of self-control in Barry’s body to keep from swearing.

“You do realise I’m Killer _Frost,_ right? The cold is kind of my thing. That gun can’t hurt me. But by all means, keep trying.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” said Len. Glancing over his shoulder, he said out of the corner of his mouth, “Got any better ideas?”

“Let her take Dibny so we can go home?” Barry muttered darkly.

“Don’t tempt me.” Len tugged on his tie, loosening the knot. “How long until she turns back into Snow?”

“Could be days, could be minutes. It’s not an exact science; we know how to turn Caitlin into Killer Frost, but it’s anyone’s guess how to get her to revert. I don’t think even she knows how she does it. All we know is she doesn’t go down without a fight.”

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting your conversation?” Killer Frost asked loudly.

“You’re interrupting our entire _date_ ,” Len said vehemently, and shot her again to vent his feelings – this time, right in the face.

The second shot didn’t even throw her off balance, but it pissed her off. Her eyes glowed brighter, and a large icicle formed in each clenched fist, gleaming maliciously.

“Shoot me again and I will freeze off every single one of your extremities one at a time,” she said.

“Well, that sounds a little kinky for my liking,” said Leonard. “I’m gonna have to pass.”

“Go home, Frost,” said Barry. “So your date wasn’t what you expected him to be – people get catfished all the time. Get over it.”

She sheathed the icicles in her boots, sliding them down the sides like stilettos. “Oh, he’s not getting away with it. Ralph Dibny is a creepy, sexist asshole. It’s about time he faced some consequences for his behaviour. I’ve waited weeks to see Caitlin hand his ass to him, but as usual, she left the dirty work to me.” She held out her smoking hands. “Time to take out the trash.”

She started walking towards the table, beneath which Ralph cowered like a misbehaving puppy. Tempting as it was to leave them both to battle it out – he wasn’t convinced Frost could even _hurt_ Ralph, though he was sure she’d give it her best shot – Barry knew he couldn’t leave them to tear the restaurant apart. Shaking his head, he started rolling up his sleeves.

“I wasn’t trying to be a catfish!” Ralph shouted, skittering backwards. The whole table came with him, so that he looked like some bizarre kind of crab scuttling across the floor. “I told Caitlin I wanted to ask you on a date, but she wouldn’t give me your number!”

“For good reason,” Frost snarled, and hurled an icy projectile at him.

Ralph yelped and ducked, the table crashing to the floor. Leonard rolled his eyes.

“These are the people you associate with.”

“Trust me, I’m reconsidering my life choices,” said Barry, and he tossed Len his cell phone. The older man snatched it out of the air, and at a nod, hit speed dial.

Killer Frost raised her hands, gearing up for another onslaught.

Barry blurred across the room, diving under Ralph’s table. At the sight of him, Ralph gave a very undignified scream, then realised who he was screeching at. “Oh. Hey, Barry.”

“You owe me bigtime,” Barry said through clenched teeth, and whisked him out of harm’s way.

The table they’d been hiding under blasted across the room, hitting the wall in a shower of splinters. It dragged half the furniture in the room with it; the damage they were causing was astronomical. They were so fucking barred from this restaurant, Barry thought bitterly as Killer Frost wheeled to face him, shaking her head.

“You can run, but you can’t hide, boys,” she said, holding out her hand. A gleaming white sphere formed on the palm of her hand, roughly the size of an orange. Somehow, Barry didn’t think it was a snowball.

He was proved right when she launched the missile at Ralph’s head with a flick of her wrist. Barry grabbed Ralph, forcing his head down; when the ball of ice hit the wall, it exploded and shards flew. A few found their way down the back of Barry’s shirt, and he shuddered as they trickled down his back.

Barry looked up, spotted the fancy chandelier swinging above their heads. “Ralph,” he said. “Up."

Ralph’s face lit up, and he reached out, his arm distorting, stretching bizarrely. He grabbed the light fitting, gave it a quick tug to make sure it was stable, then grabbed it with both hands and retracted his limbs.

He rose upwards towards the ceiling, clinging to the chandelier, which rocked wildly. He wrapped his legs around it and hung on for dear life, like a sloth clinging to a tree branch – and leaving Barry stranded on the ground.

“ _Ralph_!”

“Oh, good,” Killer Frost said, turning to where Ralph dangled from the ceiling. “Target practice.”

A breach burst open in the centre of the room, directly beneath where Ralph was hanging, and a concussive blast exploded out of the breach, slamming into Killer Frost and throwing her across the room. She hit the wall, rolled, and came up snarling just as Cisco leapt out of the portal, gloved hands raised. In one hand, he held a small metal device.

“Hey, Frosty!” shouted Cisco. “Catch!”

He hurled the device across the room. Killer Frost’s hand instinctively shot up to catch it, and the trinket landed in her hand. She looked down, and it immediately enlarged, slid down her fingers and snapped shut around her wrist.

Outraged, she grabbed the cuff and tried to pry it loose, just as another circlet popped out and closed around her other wrist, pinning her hands together. There was just enough time for her to give Cisco a murderous look before there was a shimmer, and her hair began to darken, her eyes fading to brown. Seconds later, there stood Caitlin, staring aghast at the destruction around her.

“Oh no. What happened?” She looked down at herself, staring at the copious amount of cleavage on display, the knee high boots and leather jacket straining over her chest. “Oh, my god.” She lifted her cuffed hands to cover her face. “I don’t even wanna ask.”

Ralph chose that exact time to let go of the chandelier and fell to the ground with a crash. Caitlin jumped out of her skin, leaping backwards with a yelp.

“ _Ralph?_ ”

“Hey…Caitlin…” groaned Ralph, raising one hand in a weak wave.

“Sorry about that,” said Cisco, walking over to her and producing a key to the cuffs. He inserted it and they came unlocked with a metallic clunk, retracting back into a compact chunk of metal, which he slipped into his pocket. Caitlin rubbed her wrists. “Barry sent me a 911. Best I could think of under the circumstances. She’ll be expecting it next time, so I guess I’ll have to think of yet another way to get your evil alter-ego under control next time. Why _exactly_ did you decide to let her have free reign on Valentine’s Day?”

“I didn’t,” said Caitlin. She rigged a jump-scare on my laptop. I was trying to watch a movie and this screamer popped up and scared the crap out of me; she’d set it to a timer so I would transform at the exact moment she wanted. Clearly she had plans.”

“Yeah, like a date with Ralph,” said Barry, folding his arms. “Except she didn’t know that. Looks like someone wasn’t particularly honest on his Tinder profile.”

Caitlin stared at Ralph. “You _catfished_ Killer Frost?”

Ralph just gurgled in response.

“Well, this is all very cosy,” said Leonard. “But might I remind you that Barry and I are _supposed_ to be on a date.”

“Yeah,” Barry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So much for our nice, normal evening.”

“Oh, Barry, I’m sorry,” said Caitlin, touching his arm.

“It’s fine, Caitlin, I’m not mad at you. It wasn’t your fault.” He looked at Ralph. “You, I am mad at.”

“Understandable,” said Ralph, making no effort to peel himself off the ground.

Barry turned to Leonard. “Maybe we should cancel. Head home and call it a night. I don’t think we’re going to be getting any food here tonight.”

“Screw that,” said Len. “I have a better idea.” Holstering his gun, he put his hand on the small of Barry’s back and said coolly, “If you’ll excuse us, we have a date to finish.”

“I hope you enjoy it,” said Caitlin.

“Oh,” said Len, “we will.”

 

~*~

 

“I guess it’s kind of fitting that we ended up here,” said Barry, lifting a forkful of fries. “You remember the last time? That was our first date – kind of. Our first sit-down dinner, anyway.”

“An auspicious occasion,” Len said. “Could you pass the salt?”

Barry slid it across the table with a smile, remembering the last time they’d sat in Saints and Sinners like this. Well. Not quite like this. There had been no smiles, and sexual tension by the bucketful – back then, he’d never have imagined things would turn out like this.

As if reading his mind, Len said, “You paid for my food then, too.”

“Yeah, I did. That was a dick-move, by the way.”

Salting his food generously, Len made eye contact, smirked, and tipped the shaker.

Seizing his wrist, Barry stopped him just before the salt spilled. “Don’t tempt fate. I think we’ve had enough bad luck for one day.”

“True,” Len said, and set the salt back down without spilling a single grain.

“I guess it was too much to ask for that we could have one evening without any crazy stuff going on,” Barry said ruefully.

“At least it was one to remember. Our first Valentine's Day.”

Len raised his beer bottle; Barry lifted his own and clinked them together.

“Cheers.”

“Although,” said Len, taking a swig, “I would like to ask one small favour.”

“After the night we’ve had – anything.”

“Perhaps it might be a good idea if we went on a date somewhere _outside_ of the city next year.”

Shaking his head, Barry looked across the table at the smirk on Len’s face.

“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds like a fantastic idea.”


End file.
